


Light and Blood

by Visinata



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown 2019, M/M, Reimagined Scene, SCRYING, Watford Eighth Year, cannon complient, crystal ball, great lawn, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visinata/pseuds/Visinata
Summary: When Penny offers to get her crystal ball the night of the start of year picnic, Agatha agrees and no one is quite prepared for the future they see.Now with INCREDIBLE art byKrisRix
Relationships: Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563961
Comments: 30
Kudos: 230
Collections: Agatha Wellbelove fics, Carry On Countdown 2019





	Light and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Carry On Countdown two-for, inspired by the line, “You’re going to see me bathed in blood, but you won’t be able to tell whose it is. And you’ll see Agatha looking beautiful and swathed in light,” from chapter 14 of Carry On.
> 
> The jaw-dropping sketch created by [ KrisRix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix)  
> raises this fic to a whole new level. Tremendous thanks!
> 
> Day 16: Reimagined scene
> 
> Day 17: Psychic (a crystal ball counts as a psychic force, right?)

AGATHA

It’s the night before classes start for our last year and Penny and I are lying on the Great Lawn pointing out constellations to Simon because he never learned them himself. Constellations can’t come alive and put you in mortal danger, and there’s nothing to run through with a sword, so I suppose he wasn’t interested. 

When Penelope offers to get her crystal ball and tell our fortunes Simon and I both groan. Then I think about what that would mean, seeing into my future. I have _so_ many questions.

“Actually, that sounds good,” I say. “Why don’t you fetch it?”

“Really?” Penny sounds surprised I’ve finally agreed. She was on about her crystal ball nonstop fourth and fifth year, almost as bad as Simon is about Baz, and I _did_ want her to shut up about it. But now, I don’t know. Now the future is so much closer, and Penny’s older and knows more about scrying. Maybe I’ll be able to see… well, I don’t know what exactly I’m hoping to see. Something.

Simon groans again, even louder. “Merlin no, don’t encourage her.”

But it’s too late. Penelope is raising her hand and holding her ring out towards The Cloisters. 

“ **Come here** ,” she says, and after a minute the ball comes barreling towards us over the moat, trailing a stream of pixie dust in its wake. Students _ooh_ and _ahh_ as the sparkling dust lands on them and makes them slightly more giddy than they already were. 

Penelope dusts the ball off with a grimace on her face, then sits up and motions for Simon and me to join her. We sit up too and Simon looks at me, then scoots closer.

“Ask it about us,” he says, putting his hand on my leg. I’m supposed to like that. I know I am, but it feels awkward. I do my best to smile anyway. We might be about to see us happy together in the future. I’m ready to see myself happy and I can keep pretending until we get there if I have to. Fake it till you make it, right? (That’s a spell--one I’ve never mastered.)

Darkness swirls in the ball, like heavy smoke. It takes up shapes so fleeting I’m not sure I’m actually seeing one before the next appears. Eventually the darkness resolves into silver, then starts taking on more solid forms and realistic colors. 

Finally the three of us are staring at a scene that could be straight out of The Sims. There’s a person at the center of the image and the background looks light and airy, filled with a summer-on-the-beach palette that’s almost too stereotypical to be real. That’s me. I take a deep breathe and it feels easy. We’re looking at me, and it looks good. 

I’m clearly older, tanner, my hair is shorter and very _very_ blond, like it gets after two weeks in Mallorca. I’m walking a little dog on a pink leash and seagulls are flying in the blue sky behind me.

This is by far the most distinct image Penelope’s ever produced. It’s like we’re watching on the brand new telly at my parents’ house. What does that mean? Is it just that Penny’s a better magician than the last time I let her try this? Or does it mean that this is the most likely scenario for the future that we’ve seen so far? Are things finally going to calm down? Can we leave the war behind? Do I really get to go somewhere with ocean birds and have a life steady enough for a pet dog? 

We watch me walking, slowly. Strolling. Like nothing’s chasing me. I look happy and, except for the dog (I think it’s some sort of spaniel) blissfully alone. I look up at Simon, eyes shining while he watches future me make my way down the pavement, and feel guilty about having that thought--about how nice it looks for future me to be by myself. 

Maybe I’m walking to meet Simon. He’ll breeze up in a pair of pastel Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved button down and he’ll look tan and relaxed and alive. Maybe he’ll have a dog on a leash too. Maybe we have two dogs in the future. Maybe I could live with that, a happy, safe Simon, and a pair of dogs. 

“When are we going to see me? I’m going to show up soon, yeah?” Simon is starting to look concerned.

“I don’t know,” Penny says. She frowns. “I did cast for both of you. If you’re both still alive in the future it should show you both.”

Simon’s face crumples. He coughs, then says. “I… I knew… but I still thought… I thought… “

He lifts his face to look at me, real eighth year me, the me who’s confused and a little bit unhappy, and who doesn’t have a dog. 

“But why, Agatha. How can you be so happy?” He gestures at the crystal ball. “If I’m… if I’m not… “

I know what he’s thinking. That he’s died and I’m blithely going on with my life. And that’s the whole problem of me being with Simon. I’d miss him and I would be very sad if he died, but I _would_ go on with my life. This is 2015. They don’t lock you in a tower anymore if your betrothed fails to return from the war. You get to live. I want to live. 

We’re all three very quiet, watching future Agatha enjoying her life. I don’t think any of us can think of anything good to say. Maybe there _is_ nothing good to say.

Then the image swirls again and when it crystalizes, we’re obviously looking at Simon’s hair. It’s the same as it looks by the end of the school year every year, after it’s had a chance to grow out, but longer on top. His curls are absolutely lush. 

But there’s also blood. Pools of it, flowing over his bare arms and torso in a crimson wave. So much blood it looks like a sheet of blood red silk. Actually… I think it really _is_ a sheet of blood red silk. As in, a silk sheet. The over-the-top posh kind they’d have in a vampire-themed hotel room at a Disney resort.

Is this our bedroom? Is this our bed? Am I about to be completely mortified by what comes next? I’m already mortified by the red silk sheet. Who picked _that_ out?

A pale arm slides into view from the edge of the crystal. It wraps itself around Simon’s neck and he jerks his head back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, like he’s screaming in pain. You can’t hear anything from a crystal ball. It’s video only. 

My arm wasn’t pale in the the image of me we saw a minute ago. And this arm is more muscular than I ever expect I’ll be. It looks wrong. It looks like a boy’s arm. A man’s arm. I don’t understand. Is Simon under attack in the future (again?) (still?) (always?). Are we watching him lose his life in a top-of-the-line Disney penthouse? Can I keep watching this? _Should_ I keep watching this? I do and when a head of long black hair comes into view, Penelope gasps.

“That’s Baz!”

“What?” Simon says. “No!” 

Future Baz is lunging at future Simon and Simon is _writhing_. He looks like he’s on the brink of something. Are we about to watch him die?

“So you _were_ right to be obsessed over him after all,” I say. “He _is_ trying to kill you.”

“That’s it,” Simon’s jumped to his feet. “I have to end this now. I’m not letting him get into my future and show up in ten years to ruin my life with Agatha.”

He’s scanning the lawn and calling for his sword, like he’s about to storm off right this minute and kill a fellow student. Right here. Right now, on the first day back. I can’t believe I looked so happy in my future. I care about Simon, but can I really settle down to a life with someone who just can’t give things a rest?But… I guess if the crystal is showing us the truth, it isn’t paranoia, it’s real. 

Penny gasps again, then practically shouts, “Oh no!” right in my ear. Then she’s frantically trying to cover the ball with the coat she spelled into a blanket, but we’re sitting on it, and Simon is standing on the corner and I can still see the image on the ball and…

“I don’t think you’re fighting, Simon,” I say. 

“What?” He looks down, confused.

Penelope tugs on his trouser leg. “You don’t seem to be minding this, actually,” she says.

It’s true, he doesn’t. I still think he looks like he’s in pain, but whatever it is Baz is doing to him, he’s not stopping it. And they both seem to be naked, though due to the dimensions of the crystal ball they fade out just below the waist. And they’re both wearing rings--and not just any rings.

“You match,” I say, pointing. “The both of you. Look at those rings. Penelope, can you zoom in on this thing?”

She does, until we’re staring at a close-up of Simon’s left hand.

“That’s the House of Pitch crest Simon, and it’s on your ring finger.”

I look up at him and I can feel my eyes go so wide I think they might dry out on the spot. Then I cant’ help myself, I’m grinning.

“Why are you smiling Agatha?” Simon scowls. “You get a sunny beach and I get a vampire at my throat and that makes you happy?”

“Well, it seems to be making you happy too, Simon.” Penelope points to the crystal where Simon’s face is now taking up the whole screen and he’s clearly mouthing, “Yes yes yes.”

He covers the ball with both of his hands and splutters.

“That isn’t me. That’s f _uture_ me.”

“Same thing,” Penelope says.

“Agatha!” Simon wails.”

I’m still smiling, I can’t help it. I rest a hand on his arm. “I think maybe we both have a chance at a future, Simon. A future for each of us that we like. That’s… that’s a good thing. That’s something to look forward to.”

“I can’t believe it,” Penelope mutters. “No _wonder_ you’re so obsessed with Baz.”

Then she starts laughing, and I do too. I feel such a weight off my shoulders and I can’t really believe in either of these futures yet, mine or Simon’s, but I have something big and new hope for now. And, apparently—I snort, I’m laughing so hard—so does Simon.


End file.
